The Package
by Anne Murdoch
Summary: Blair receives a package.


"Argh!"

Jim looked up from the case file he was studying as Blair shut his book and stood from the couch, joints popping as he stretched.

"Get the door while you're up, will you, Chief?"

Blair paused, looked at Jim, looked at the door and heard a loud knock. He shook his head in amusement. "It's like living with a Psychic Friend, man." Strolling over to the door, Blair put his hand on the knob, then looked at Jim again. "I don't suppose you know who it is?"

Jim had listened to the telltale sounds of shoe leather, crinkling paper, and a familiar whistle as the visitor had climbed the stairs. He put his hand to his forehead as if in heavy concentration, and said, "I see...UPS."

Blair swung the door open and recognized the familiar brown uniform of the delivery man. He chuckled and signed for a small package addressed to him. "Thanks, man."

The package was the size of a shoe box, wrapped in brown paper, with no return address. Blair returned to the table, shoving Jim's neatly stacked files excitedly aside and began unwrapping it.

_"Like a kid at Christmas," _Jim thought as the young man's knife made quick work of the packing tape

Blair opened the box to reveal a pile of Styrofoam peanuts and something heavily encased in bubble wrap. Blair put one of the bubbles between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. It made a satisfying snap, and he grinned at Jim. A small Indian figure, about 6 inches tall fell into Blair's hands as he unrolled it. Jim winced as packing material scattered over the edge of the table.

"Oh, man, Jim! Do you know what this is?"

Jim contemplated the small wooden carving. It had a large protruding appendage. "Fertility god?"

"Mmm, a rare one, too." Blair dug through the rest of the peanuts and found a thick envelope at the bottom.

As his friend opened the envelope, producing a single typewritten page and a smaller, flowered envelope, Jim recognized the perfume on it. "Maya."

Blair looked up, eyes sparkling, filled with barely contained excitement. It had been six weeks since the young man had heard from Maya, and he had never stopped hoping for a miracle that would bring them together again. They had begun a regular correspondence almost as soon as she had been deported, and a relationship that Jim had hoped would fade away had started to strengthen again. The part Maya had played in Blair's abduction was unforgivable in Jim's eyes, and he had always had reservations about the woman. She was connected to a large and powerful crime family in Chile, and even if she were innocent of the crimes of her family, it still wasn't a safe relationship for Blair. Jim knew better than to voice any of his concerns to his partner, who was obviously still in love with her. He was young, and he would either come to his senses or learn the hard way.

As Blair began reading the typewritten sheet, his smile froze and was replaced with a look of shock. Blair's eyes began to move faster, back and forth across the page as he read quickly and began shaking his head. "No." He stood and dropped the page on the table, continuing to stare at it as if it were a sick joke. "No way, man."

"Blair, what's wrong?"

Jim stood and walked over to his friend, who had backed up against the kitchen island, still shaking his head in denial. His eyes were shiny with tears. Without asking permission, Jim picked up the letter and read it. It was from a friend of Maya's. It was brief and to the point. Maya had been caught in the crossfire of a gun battle outside her home and was killed. Maya's will had stated that in the event of her death, Blair should receive the figure and a letter that she had written to him. According to the date the package was sent, the funeral had taken place over a month ago. Jim folded the paper and placed it back on the table. It would be easy enough to verify the events with his CIA contacts later. The Carasco's were prominent enough that if a member of their family died, the intelligence community would know.

"I'm sorry, Blair."

Blair looked up at Jim, tears threatening to spill, and Jim felt his gut turn over. Anguish and confusion twisted a face that had been smiling only seconds ago. Jim took a step forward, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Blair twisted away from the grip, as if accepting the comfort would mean accepting that Maya was dead.

Blair looked at Jim with desperate hopefulness. "It could be a lie, right? I mean, the Carasco family is a little pissed at us right now. Maya told me they didn't approve of us writing to each other."

"I can find out for you. Hang in there." Jim dialed up his contact while Blair went out onto the balcony, pacing and running his hands through his hair nervously. The kid was in a near panic, and Jim felt butterflies in his own stomach as he awaited a reply. It didn't take long, and Jim walked out to join his friend. He had put on his best poker face, wanting to tell Blair instead of having him read it in his expression, but they had been friends too long for it to work.

"Oh, god." It was almost a whisper. Blair was barely able to keep his composure long enough to run from the loft. Jim was tempted to go after Blair, but he knew that the young man was embarrassed to cry in front of him, so he let him go. A few minutes later, he picked up Maya's letter, shrugged on a jacket, and followed.

Blair could barely see the sidewalk through the pain. He couldn't think, and for the longest time, he wasn't even aware of his surroundings. Maya is dead. It was the only thing that registered. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs or cry or *something*, but the lump in his throat refused to let anything out. His whole body seemed filled with a huge, incredible ache. When his vision finally cleared, he realized he had walked almost a mile.

He took a deep shuddering breath. Maya is dead. It wasn't possible. He and Maya had been writing to each other for months. The last letter he had received had been hopeful. She was attending the university in her home town, doing very well. They had begun to make tentative plans to meet in six months in Canada. She seemed to think that she would be able to get a visa to study in Vancouver. Her family life, while she was never very specific about it, seemed tolerable enough, although he wondered at her insistence that most of her family were legitimate business people. It was denial, he knew. Maya wanted to belong to a normal family, and the thought that they were all corrupt frightened her. Having a father in prison was heartbreak enough. Nothing in any of her letters indicated she was in any danger. Nothing. She couldn't be dead.

Blair saw that he was at a small park where he and Jim sometimes played basketball. The sky was overcast and rain threatened, so it was deserted. He found a park bench and sat down, putting his head in his hands, trying to massage the ache away. He had been sitting there for a while, studying an ant making his way along with a piece of food, trying not to think about anything at all, when he felt someone sit down beside him. Jim didn't say a word, just sat there beside him, waiting. Blair sat up just as the first clap of thunder rumbled in the distance.

"She's really dead." No question this time. If Jim said it was true, then it was true.

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Some of her cousins have been trying to take over the family business. With Victor in prison here, and Gustavo in retirement, they've been getting bolder. A little over four weeks ago, an attempt was made on the life of Maya's two older brothers. Maya was with them, and was shot once in the head. She never knew what hit her."

"And her brothers?"

"One was seriously wounded, the other came out without a scratch."

Blair stood, feeling his anger grow as the rumbling of the approaching storm came closer. "She didn't deserve it, Jim! She was the only one in that family who was any good. She made some mistakes, but she didn't deserve to be shot in the head." He looked at Jim, expecting agreement, and saw something there beneath the surface of his usually unreadable face. "What aren't you telling me, Jim?"

"It's nothing you need to know."

"Yes, it is. Don't lie to me man, I want to know."

Jim suddenly looked very tired, almost old. "I'm sorry, Chief."

"What? Don't protect me, man."

"My contact in the CIA said that in the last few months she had taken an active role in the business. They are pretty sure she was one of the targets, too."

"Well, they're wrong, Jim! It's bullshit. Maya would never..."

Jim stood, his hands out to try to calm him. "Blair, they have pictures of Maya meeting with a well-known gun dealer, handing him a briefcase full of money."

"You're a liar! You didn't like her and you hated the fact that your partner was in love with the daughter of a Chilean mobster." Maya's face came back to him, beautiful and smiling. She wasn't capable of what Jim was saying.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

Blair felt his anger boil over. How dare Jim tell him lies like this? Maya was dead and here he was spitting on her body. "Screw you!" Blair lurched forward and took a swing at Jim, but the detective was too fast for him and sidestepped. Blair didn't have any energy left to try again. His legs folded and he sat on the ground feeling the tears well up in him again. "She didn't have a chance."

Jim was beside him again, sitting in the grass as the rain broke and began to pelt them with slow, wet, drops. "I know she didn't. Her whole life she was surrounded by those people. But she still believed the best of them. She fell in love with you, so she couldn't have been all bad."

"I loved her, Jim. We were making plans to see each other again." Blair looked at his hands, and saw droplets of water were hitting them, and he knew that some of them were his own tears. "What am I going to do without her, Jim?"

Jim reached over and put an arm around Blair's shoulders. "We'll figure it out, Blair. It'll be OK."

The feel of his friend's arm around him seemed to release the tears Blair couldn't find earlier, and he began sobbing in great choking gasps. "I just want to see her again, talk to her."

"Shhh, it's going to be OK." Jim put his other arm around Blair and held him tightly, resting his forehead against the side of Blair's head, as if trying to take away his pain by osmosis.

"I loved her."

"I know you did. She loved you too."

God, the grief felt like it would rip him apart, and the only thing that was holding Blair together was Jim. The tears came in torrents, seeming to increase with the intensity of the afternoon thundershower. Jim held onto him until he had cried himself out, telling him that everything was going to be all right. Some part of Blair believed it because Jim had said it, and he never lied. Finally, Jim released him and held out a clean, dry handkerchief.

Blair looked at him in amazement as he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

"Always be prepared." Jim smiled at him.

Any other time, Blair would have laughed. The Boy Scout motto seemed so appropriate coming from his friend's mouth. He felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily turn up for a moment as Jim stood and held out his hand. Both men were soaked to the bone and the rain had not completely let up. Blair was shivering as they began to walk back to the loft.

"I never told her."

"What?"

"That I loved her. I kept meaning to, but I was afraid of what she would say. Afraid maybe I was going too fast."

"I think she knew." Jim's arm was there again, resting lightly over his shoulders.

"I don't have many people in my life who are really close. Not like that. There's mom and you. That's pretty much it, now."

"You have a lot of friends, Blair."

"Yeah, but not people who accept me for who I am. Not people I can tell anything to. Not people I can trust absolutely. This is too hard. What would I do if I ever lost mom? Or you?"

"You aren't going to, Chief." Jim drew Blair closer for a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't want..." Blair sighed, feeling the tears welling up again. "Maya died without hearing those words from me."

"Words are just that--words. Love is about actions, about the little day to day things. She knew you loved her. I'm sure of it."

They walked in silence for a while, and Blair became lost in thought again. "I've never had a friend as close as you; someone I know I can count on. You're like a brother, you know? I love you, man. I...umm...I just thought you should know." Blair stared at the sidewalk ahead of him, afraid to look at Jim. He was embarrassed, just a little, but it was the truth and it needed to be said. There was no doubt in his mind that the feeling was returned. Like Jim had said, love is about actions, and Jim was here for him, pulling him out of his despair, saving him from drowning in it. Rescuing Blair from bullets was something Jim _had_ to do. Standing in the middle of a thunderstorm while Blair fell apart was pure friendship.

"I already did."

_Just like Maya._ Blair saw his unspoken words as Jim released him and pulled Maya's letter from his pocket, handing it to Blair. He fingered the heavy paper, smelling the familiar perfume. Part of her was still alive, inside that envelope, and he didn't open it, wasn't ready to just yet. Clutching it tightly, he let the tears flow silently as he and his friend walked home

The End

* * *

Notes: Back when the old GuidePosts Sentinel Archive was up, there was a challenge to write a "smarm" story without blood, physical injury or nightmare. Nobody said "no angst".

Oh, and I told Dae, one of my beta readers, that I'd let you know what the working title of this was, for those of you who would get it: "Two Birds with One Stone". g

Thanks to Dae and Tigg for killing the typo faeries and to Kitty for verifying that I had indeed achieved smarm.


End file.
